Twenty seven down, three to go.


April Prompts #27

Janice’s #2:  I am a musical instrument



I am old. Christ, I’m old. No one knows my home.

I’ve sung in cloisters and begged on the streets.

I’ve sung with the blind and danced with the poor.

At Compostela they carved me in stone.

I’ve been played by angels and skeletons.

Bosch set me down in his horrible garden,

vision of vice and lust and damnation.

I followed the peasants to town, helped them drown

their longings in wine. Churned by girls I sold

flywhisks and brooms. Tangents and tuners, bridges

and pegs, little chien in his shaky home.

My voice is harsh and sweet. I squeal and moan.


My wheel, like the wheel of the world, turns round

while my keys clack down and my strings resound.

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